I run down the boardwalk, not worrying about getting splinters in my tender feet. Every ten or fifteen feet I cease, sometimes to scent the salty sea air, but largely to attend for my dad and mom who plod alongside behind carrying chairs, coolers, and other beach paraphernalia. I yell again to them to rush, they usually reply that I can run forward and find a great place. I yelp with glee and run as fast as my little legs will carry me.
I stop where the dark, brown of the boardwalk meets the light, white of the seashore. My dad warned me about how sizzling the sand can get. I cautiously take a step ahead testing the sand, OUCH, he was right.
What am I gonna do now, in my six year old eyes the water appears to be a mile away. Again I look out to the ocean which seems to stretch for days in all instructions. I am decided to reach it, no matter what sacrifices I must make.
I step forward once more testing the sand, still white scorching. I pull my courage from the corners of my being and make a run for it. This isn’t so dangerous if I run really quick. The wind blows in my face, bringing with it that odor, almost a taste of the ocean. It seems to be a mixture of fish, salt, folks, and water all blended into one. I proceed to run until I reach the water’s edge where the waves crash upon the seashore, making the white sand brown and onerous.
I sit down on the sand, panting after my enormous effort.
Something troubling pulls at the edge of my mind, but I ignore it. A wave rolls as a lot as the seashore, crashing around me, wetting me hot body. I dig my body into the moistened ground, masking my legs and arms with the cool, wet sand. I hear my mother calling to me to return as a lot as the umbrella. I turn again to take a glance at her, as I do so the little factor at the fringe of my mind all of a sudden dawns on me. I made it out to the water, now I should make my method again.